


Storming the Gates

by Uratha



Series: Route 666: The Road to a Cure [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Gates
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Jackson Whittemore, Jackson and Stiles are Brothers, Jackson is a Winchester, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Post-Season 10, Teen Wolf Post-Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:42:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uratha/pseuds/Uratha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Beacon Hills, Derek Hale and the three Winchester brothers begin their search for something, but along the way, they will learn that despite their vast experience with the supernatural, their knowledge barely scratches the surface.  The first stop in their journey--an isolated community rife with secrets--will change everything, particularly for one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely no familiarity with the series "The Gates" is required. I'll give enough background info to get you through it if you never saw it :) The only thing to know is that Brett Crezski is played by Colton Haynes, and like Jackson eventually became, Brett is a werewolf.
> 
> Okay, my second fanfic. I'm hoping my storytelling has improved since the first one. As always, feedback is more than welcome!

Sam was going through some of the Men of Letters lore while Jackson Skyped with Stiles. It was something they did daily, and had since the three brothers and Derek had left Beacon Hill weeks ago. Jackson talked a lot about not being able to believe he was related to Stilinksi at first, but the protestations quickly faded. Everyone could see a change in the youngest Winchester. His time away in London had already started that process after he became a werewolf, but the revelation that he had family that actually wanted him had caused a far greater transformation than lycanthropy. The snarky, privileged asshole was gone. Even his former Alpha was amazed at this new personality, and the elder siblings would often find the Pureblood staring at their younger brother in complete disbelief when he would say or do something completely out of character from the Jackson he remembered.

Sam, unsurprisingly, went out of his way to include Jackson in almost everything he did. It reminded the now-middle brother of his own personality that he thought long lost. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Adam—the real Adam, not the ghoul, obviously. They had only gotten to know him after Zachariah tried to manipulate Dean into becoming Michael’s vessel, but it had kindled an ache for family that neither Hunter realized had grown in them since their father died. It was only magnified once they had said goodbye to Bobby. Dean noticed it, too, and in his way, he did much the same. Already, the “You’re my little brother. It’s my job to protect you” line had been uttered to the young werewolf on more than one occasion when they had been on a job. To Derek’s surprise, Jackson hadn’t protested. While he still bristled when Derek told him to do something, he followed every instruction his brothers gave with minimal argument.

Sam turned the ancient and weathered pages gently, trying not to eavesdrop, but since his little brother was sitting only a few feet away, it was next to impossible. The concept of “little brother” was so strange. He found himself in the role that Dean had occupied for over three decades, and he understood the frustration, the admiration, and the worry. He looked back over his history with Dean with a fresh perspective, and things made a lot more sense to him. They didn’t speak of it, but his older brother noticed, and it seemed to strengthen their own relationship.

Stiles yammered on incessantly. Emissary or not, he was still a teenager, and an endearingly dorky one at that. He rambled about this and that, from druidic remedies to comic books to the latest threat facing Scott’s pack to video games. Sam occasionally stole glances of his little brother, who was smiling broadly from ear to ear throughout the entire conversation. He had to fight to suppress his own smile, especially when he heard them ending the video call. “Love you,” Jackson said.

“Love you, too,” Stiles smiled, and the screen went black.

Jackson was frozen, with a look of abject terror on his face. Sam closed the folio he was perusing and walked around the table to sit next to his brother. He reached over and closed the laptop, which Jackson was still staring at. “Not something you say a lot, huh?”

Jackson shook his head. “Try never.”

“You are your oldest brother made over,” Sam smiled. “For over half my life, every time something remotely resembling feelings was brought up, Dean would tell me ‘No chick-flick moments’.”

Jackson laughed in spite of himself. It was a full-body affair, accompanied by a brightness in the younger man’s eyes and lines that Sam was sure wasn’t overly familiar to him. As he stared at John’s youngest son (at least as far as he knew, given the surprises of late), he found himself wondering what Jackson and Stiles’ mother looked like. Sam and Dean were good-looking—they had heard that enough over the years—but Jackson took that to a whole new level. Stiles was good-looking in his own way as well. After seeing old pictures, it was obvious that he was growing into himself, yet Jackson was always such. The way he carried himself screamed that it was the one constant he had always possessed in a world of uncertainty. That, too, hinted at similarities between him and his oldest brother.

“It’s okay to say it,” Sam assured him. “It’s okay to mean it, too.”

Jackson still had that deer-caught-in-headlights look, so Sam stood, walked behind him, and hugged him. “There’s a lot of people who love you now, so you better get used to it,” he told him, burying his nose and chin into Jackson’s perfectly-coifed hair. The young werewolf reached up to clutch at Sam’s arm, as though he needed to touch it with his own fingers to be certain that it was real.

 _“I still can’t believe you’re insisting on this!”_ Jackson heard echoing through the halls of the bunker at a volume only werewolf senses could pick up. It was Derek’s voice.

Dean’s voice retaliated. _“It’s not about that—about you. How many times do I have to tell you that?”_

Jackson’s voice must have betrayed that his attentions were elsewhere. Sam stood and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The lovebirds?” he asked.

Jackson nodded.

Sam walked over to grab the beer he had been nursing and handed it to Jackson. “I’m guessing you need that?” he grinned.

“You know I can’t really get drunk, so that doesn’t help,” Jackson smirked.

Sam chuckled. “I walked in on their hands down each other’s pants back in Beacon Hills. I still want to claw my eyes out. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, since you can hear….”

“Everything,” Jackson answered for him. “As big as this place is, the bedrooms aren’t soundproofed, so noises carry.”

Sam cringed. “That means you know who…,” he let his voice trail off, not willing to finish the question.

“Who’s on top?” Jackson guessed. He nodded.

Sam shuddered. “I don’t want to know, but there is something of a morbid curiosity. Both of them are so damned dominant that I have a hard time… you know?”

“Yeah,” Jackson laughed. “I do. I can tell you, but once you know it, you can never _un_ -know it, so be sure.”

Sam quickly shook his head. “I’m not _that_ curious.”

“Probably for the best,” Jackson smiled. “I wish I didn’t know, because if you think an occasional glimpse of your brother’s sex-life is bad, try hearing every minute of it.”

Sam blanched at the thought. “Next time I hook up with someone, I’m going to a motel so you guys don’t have to hear it.”

Jackson shrugged. “Getting used to it now, or at least, as used to it as I can be.”

“Do you wanna get out of here so you don’t have to hear it?” Sam offered. “We can go grab a burger or something?”

“Sure,” Jackson nodded, “though they’re not having sex right now. They’re arguing.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Arguing about what?”

“Dean still wants to find a ‘cure’,” he explained. “He doesn’t want to stay a werewolf, and Derek’s pissed.”

Sam was taken aback. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about that. When did this start?”

“Day before yesterday, maybe?” Jackson shrugged again. “I thought you knew.”

Sam shook his head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jackson assured him, grateful for the genuine concern. “Derek was born a werewolf. I asked to become one. Dean did neither. It was kind of forced on him, so he didn’t get a say. When I was the Kanima, I was something I didn’t ask to become, and it kind of sucks. By kind of, I mean totally. I can’t fault the way he feels.”

Sam listened intently. “So you’re not taking it personally because he’s rebelling against the part of you that you share?”

“We’re both werewolves, but blood is what we share. That won’t change, so I’m good either way.”

“But Derek’s not taking it so well, I’m guessing?” Sam asked.

Jackson’s expression said it all. “Derek was born a werewolf,” he reiterated, “so he basically feels like Dean’s objecting to pretty much everything he is. I can see both sides.”

After a moment of awkward silence—including Jackson hearing more of the argument—Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala. “You drive,” he offered, tossing the keys to the werewolf, “but if Dean finds out, you’re on your own.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the story notes to reflect that absolutely no familiarity with the series "The Gates" is required. I'll give enough background info to get you through it if you never saw it :) The only thing to know is that Brett Crezski is played by Colton Haynes, and like Jackson eventually became, Brett is a werewolf.

“You don’t play fair,” Derek grunted, getting out of bed.

Dean just smiled. “You stuck your lip out and pouted. You can’t blame me if I bit it.”

“The bite heals, and that’s not what I’m talking about,” Derek protested. “Every time this subject comes up, you change the subject, and we wind up having sex.”

The Hunter laced his fingers behind his head and stared at his mate appraisingly. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he really didn’t care. He was happy, and the man fussing at him was the reason why. “You can’t really blame me. You get all pissy, and it turns me on. I was right, by the way, the angry sex is _really_ good,” he teased.

Derek tried to keep up the “sour wolf” face, as Stiles called it, but everything about the eldest Winchester disarmed him. He laughed in spite of himself. “I hate you.”

“I know. Let’s have some hate sex now,” Dean smirked lasciviously.

Derek shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Then encourage me,” Dean prodded with one cocked eyebrow.

“That’s not what I said,” Derek protested.

“I know what you said,” Dean assured him. “I just don’t care. You can’t really stand there, naked, and think I’m going to have a serious conversation with you. There is _zero_ blood going to my brain right now.”

Derek smirked. “You’re as naked as I am. I can see where the blood is going.”

“You going to do something about it?” Dean waggled his eyebrows. It carried the distinctive hint of _“Why don’t you come up and see me some time?”_

Derek shook his head. “I’m going to take a shower. We _do_ need to talk about this, and I’m not letting you change the subject again.”

Dean shrugged. “Your loss,” he commented dismissively.

Derek walked down the hall to the bathroom. Of all the rooms in this place, it always astounded him that both brothers picked the ones with no private bath. Too many years on the road in cheap motels, he supposed, just made it a nonissue. It had just been the two of them in the expansive bunker for so long that walking down the hallways nude wasn’t even a thought, particularly since they were nowhere near one another. It was a fact Sam was no doubt glad of after recent developments, the Pureblood thought to himself.

As he lilted his head forward into the stream of oncoming water, Derek felt the water droplets pelting his skin. He was content to remain that way for a while… or at least he would have been until he felt something else. He grinned as he felt a set of lips on his shoulder, kissing him. He had been distracted by the sense of relaxation that the shower provided, but now, he could smell Dean’s scent—hear his heartbeat. He knew the other man well enough now that he could feel the smile on the Hunter’s face as he breathed against his neck. “I told you I wasn’t letting you change the subject again.”

“I haven’t changed the subject. I still want to have sex,” Dean protested with a grin. “Besides, watching your ass as you walked away, I haven’t heard a word you said.”

Derek snorted. “You’re still playing games with me, and I’m still mad at you. I hope you enjoyed the view, because looking is all you’re doing tonight.”

 _“Ugh! Seriously, guys!”_ both werewolves heard Jackson shout from the Bunker’s entrance.

 

When the pair of werewolves joined the younger Winchesters in the main library of the Bunker, a couple of burgers sat on the table to greet them. Sam was busy reading an email on his laptop while picking at his Caesar salad while Jackson was engrossed in one of the Men of Letters’ texts. He had already finished his chicken sandwich and was wiping his hands after each fry to prevent getting oil on the pages.

“So looking for a cure, huh?” Sam asked nonchalantly. The question immediately elicited a growl from Derek.

Dean glared menacingly at Sam. “Really? You had to bring that up right now? I haven’t even eaten yet.” He turned his icy stare towards Jackson. “Et tu, Brutus?”

“I didn’t know he didn’t know about it until earlier tonight,” Jackson shrugged. “If you’re going to try to keep secrets, you should probably tell everyone with werewolf hearing.”

Sam quickly cut in to spare his younger sibling from Dean’s retort. “The question is why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

“Look. I’m tired of trying to justify why I want to be normal me,” Dean protested, and the word _normal_ provoked something in Derek, to which Dean replied, “You _know_ what I mean! Stop using my words against me.”

Derek scowled. “It’s not your words I take issue with. It’s that you’re so quick to try to undo things that you don’t seem to care that it might be the end of us.”

“It won’t be!” Dean replied quickly.

Derek responded just as quickly. “You don’t know that!”

“I know how I feel!” Dean growled.

“You don’t know those feelings won’t change!” Derek shouted.

“And you don’t know that they will!” Dean shouted back.

Sam opened his mouth to try to play peacemaker, but Jackson beat him to the punch. “Can you two just _stop_?” he pleaded. “If I wanted to listen to endless arguments, I would have stayed back in Beacon Hills with my folks. I thought you two actually loved one another.”

“I _do_ love him,” Dean assured his brother calmly.

Derek wouldn’t even look at him. “And I love him. I just don’t know what I’ll do if he stops feeling the same. It’s not like when _normal_ people fall out of love,” he said, emphasizing the word. “It could literally be the death of me.”

“I would never let that happen,” Dean said softly, moving next to Derek and squeezing his hand.

“I don’t think you would mean ever mean to,” Derek said, trying to smile but not managing well.

Dean squeezed the other man’s hand more tightly. “I loved you before I was a werewolf. I just didn’t know it. If you’re honest with yourself, you know we had feelings for one another before Deucalion showed up.”

Derek shut his eyes tightly. The reminiscing forced him to smile. Despite Braeden’s death, the moments he and Dean had shared came flooding back. The Hunter was right. There had been a connection already. Dean being turned only strengthened it on a more visceral level. Opening his eyes, he nodded at his mate. “Okay, so what do you want to do?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Dean smiled in return. “I don’t even know if it’s possible. I just want to find out. If you don’t want me to—if it bothers you that much—then you tell me not to look, and I won’t. Just trust that whatever the outcome, I will still love you.”

Derek sighed. “If you want to do this, I won’t stop you. I love you too much to stand in your way. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t I always?” Dean grinned.

“NO!” the other three men echoed in unison, and the room erupted with laughter.

The frank and open proclamations of love by his brother still shocked Sam. On some level, he believed Dean when he said he would love Derek, werewolf or otherwise, because he’d never heard Dean like this, not with Lisa or anyone. Based on Jackson’s face, he doubted it was the norm for Derek, either.

“So,” Sam interjected, “after Jackson filled me in on what the topic of conversation was, we started digging through all the lore we could find. Having a better understanding than what Dean and I had before we met you guys, I was able to learn quite a bit more. The werewolf trait seems to be capable of varied mutations depending on the strength of the person, their bloodline, and even location. For those incapable of control like all of you, the triggers also vary. Some are tied to the moon, obviously, but for others, there seems to be no rhyme or reason.”

Dean’s annoyance was written all over his face. “So this helps us how?”

“Well, I figure we need to understand the similarities and differences so that if we do find a ‘cure’, for lack of a better word,” Sam began, trying to show some sensitivity to Derek’s view, “then we need to know if it will cure any strain, or just a particular type.”

Derek, seemingly nonplussed by the conversation now, had returned to his usual, stoic self. He nodded. “Makes sense. I have no real experience in dealing with these other types, so I’d be interested in learning more about them myself.”

“We need to try to find correlations between every possible werewolf attack and look for patterns,” Sam suggested.

The daunting nature of the task was not lost on Dean, who stared at Sam incredulously. “And how would you suggest we do that?”

“We don’t,” Sam smiled, pointing behind his brother.

A female voice from upstairs called, “What’s up, bitches?” Charlie smiled down on them.

Dean immediately smiled, and she moved over to him and dropped her bag on the floor before embracing him in a hug that he returned vigorously. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Sam said you guys needed help. I was just a couple of hours away on a hunt, so I hightailed it over here,” she explained. “Fill me in.”

Dean and Sam looked at one another. “Well, there’s been a new development since the last time you saw me,” the eldest Winchester explained. He urged the transformation forward, and fangs, claws, and hair elongated. His eyes took on their Alpha crimson hue.

“What the Hell?” she demanded, jumping back.

Sam outstretched a hand towards her. “Relax. It’s fine.”

“What do you mean _fine_?” Charlie asked, stressing the word. “Dean’s a….”

“Werewolf,” Derek answered.

She looked over at him. “Yeah. What he said. And who the Hell is he anyway?”

“It’s fine,” Dean echoed his brother’s sentiment, willing his normal appearance to return. “It’s not like most of the werewolves we’ve encountered. I’m in complete control of myself. It’s a long story, and we’ll explain everything. For now, though, this is Derek Hale, also a werewolf… and my mate.”

Charlie did a double-take at that. “Wait. You mean you’ve switched teams?”

“Sort of,” Dean explained, “but the devil is in the details.”

She stared at Derek, and there was something about the scrutiny that made him shift uncomfortably. Finally, she looked over at Dean. “Well, if anything would convince you to switch teams, it would probably be him. He would almost convince me to. I approve.”

Sam just smiled, turning her attentions towards Jackson. She looked back to Sam with a questioning eyebrow raised. “Wait? Are you a werewolf, too? Did you go for some man-on-man action with the supermodel here? There are way too many hot guys here, and it’s completely wasted on me.”

Sam’s face twisted in disgust. “No, and please never say that again,” he grimaced.

“Don’t tell me you have a problem with it,” Charlie glared at him.

Dean just laughed. “Hardly. The man-on-man action is probably an image he could do without, but his objection is of a different nature. Sammy isn’t a werewolf, but like Derek and me, Jackson is. Charlie Bradbury, this is Jackson Whittemore… aka John Eric Winchester, Jr.”

She had already extended a hand before the words registered. “Winchester?” she repeated. “As in…?”

“Half-brother,” Jackson answered, shaking her hand.

Over the next couple of hours, the elder Winchesters gave her a full accounting of what had happened in Beacon Hills and recounted to the werewolves how they and Charlie had crossed paths, which segued into the story of the Leviathans. Derek and Jackson had already heard about breaking the seals, releasing and re-sealing Lucifer, so somehow, this didn’t shock either of them.

After everyone was caught up, Charlie nodded. “So what do you need me to do?”

Dean explained about searching for a cure (which she thought was stupid, much to Derek’s delight), and Sam explained what he wanted her to do. “Here’s a list of every known werewolf kill I could find in Dad’s journal or that I know of.” He meant deaths _of_ werewolves at the hands of Hunters, rather than those deaths caused _by_ werewolves, and Derek was understandably uncomfortable. “See if you can find any migratory patterns so we can start looking for other packs that Derek _doesn’t_ know about. If you need to, Sheriff Stilinski said you can access his database, too.”

“Like I need permission,” she smiled, pulling out her own laptop. For what seemed like eternity, Sam and the werewolves could simply sit and wait while the hacker worked her magic. Finally, she shouted, “BINGO!”

“Bingo?” Dean repeated, moving to look over her shoulder.

She nodded. “I’ve developed an algorithm, and it will continue to search the data,” she began, “but I’ve got one hit to start.”

“What do we have?” Sam asked.

“This one here,” she said, pointing to one of Sam’s handwritten notes.

Dean looked at it. “David Madden. Decent Hunter. What about him?”

“He killed two werewolves—both male. Based on the ages of the deceased that ‘mysteriously’ coincide with the werewolves, I know their names. I think they were father and son,” Charlie explained, and a sickened look crossed Jackson’s face, while Derek just looked pissed.

Dean noticed and tried to urge the conversation forward. “Keep talking.”

“Looks like the mother and another son relocated. I’ve found some unexplained deaths in the area where they moved that could be werewolf attacks.” Charlie pointed to the map. “Here.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for the delay in this installment, but right after I posted the previous chapter, something happened on Supernatural which caused me to have to rethink a few things. If you're not current on the last few episodes of Season 10 of SPN, I warn you that this chapter will have a major spoiler. Proceed at your own risk.
> 
> I've updated the story notes to reflect that absolutely no familiarity with the series "The Gates" is required. I'll give enough background info to get you through it if you never saw it :) The only thing to know is that Brett Crezski is played by Colton Haynes, and like Jackson eventually became, Brett is a werewolf.

“SAM!” Dean yelled again, startling his brother awake.

The middle Winchester shook his head, trying to gather his wits. “Yeah?” he asked simply, almost slapping himself awake.

Dean stared at him curiously. “I said how much farther? Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” Sam apologized. “I dozed off. Guess I was dreaming.”

Falling back into old comfortable routines, the eldest Winchester smiled. “Midgets or clowns?”

Sam shook his head. “Nothing like that. I was dreaming about Charlie.”

“Oh,” Dean said flatly, and the levity was gone that quickly. That was still a sore subject with both of them. It made sense. There had been a bunch of hacker nerd talk, and if she had still been alive, she could have no doubt come up with the same program Sam did (or better) in a fraction of the time. Instead, it had taken Sam over a week. His own skills had improved out of necessity, but that did little to alleviate either brother’s grief. Dean felt responsible because she had been protecting the Book of the Damned from the Styne family for him. Sam felt responsible because he had dragged her into the quest to crack the tome’s code in the first place.

Sam looked back into the backseat where Derek was sound asleep against the window and Jackson was looking at the laptop. He smiled. “You told her about him. She approved,” he said gently.

Dean smiled. “She definitely would have.”

They rode onward in a silence that slowly became less awkward and uncomfortable. Finally, Dean put the car in park and stared at the ominous gates.

“Is this seriously this place’s name?” Jackson asked, looking at the map the program had provided.

Sam shook his head from the front passenger seat. Ever since they had left Beacon Hills, Derek had occupied the spot, but when they left the Bunker, he had chosen the backseat next to his former Beta. It made a statement stronger than his words about how much he supported this endeavor… he didn’t. He supported Dean, but he still wasn’t happy. Sam knew it, and the look on Jackson’s face said he knew it, too. The eldest Winchester had undoubtedly picked up on it as well, but he said nothing. “It had a more formal name when it was built,” Sam replied, “but no one ever uses it anymore.”

Derek looked at Sam, his gaze conspicuously avoiding his mate. “So what’s our plan here?”

“Sam and I will talk to the local five-o while you two go talk to the mother and son. Odds are they’re werewolves, or at least in the know,” Dean cut in, either oblivious or simply ignoring the cold shoulder he was getting. “We’re used to the fed routine, so we’ll see what other mysterious deaths we can dig up while you get the lay of the land as far as the local pack situation.”

Jackson leaned forward between his brothers. “Isn’t it going to be strange for two FBI agents to show up carrying two random passengers?”

“I should have brought my car,” Derek grumbled in protest.

Dean cut him a glare in the rearview mirror. “We’ll handle it.”

Sam said nothing. In truth, Derek and Jackson were right. It would have made more sense for them to come separately. That meant Dean was trying to force Derek to at least share space with him in hopes of the cold shoulder thawing. As for Jackson, that one was easy enough: Dean just wanted him close enough to protect him. Jackson was hardly a child, and a more experienced werewolf than Dean, but the older brother instincts didn’t care about that. Now that he had a different vantage point, Sam couldn’t help but agree.

Pulling to the guard house at the gate, Dean flashed his ID. He, like his brother, was garbed in his usual cheap suit he used for “Fed” attire. “Agents Walsh and Williams,” he said in his gruffest voice. “We’re here to see your police chief.”

After examining the badge-holders, the man nodded. “Of course, agents,” he smiled, although something seemed off. The three werewolves in the car could hear his heart beating faster and smell the perspiration beading on his forehead. Sam picked up on their subtle reactions but wisely said nothing. As the gate was about to open, the man’s face twisted in surprise as he saw Jackson in the back seat. “Brett? Where have you been?”

The surprised expression on his younger brother’s face told Sam that Jackson didn’t have the slightest clue what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, officer, but this young man and the man sitting next to him are part of an ongoing investigation. I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to discuss details at this time. You’ll have to get the full story from Chief…?”

“Monohan,” the man quickly recovered, realizing that he might get in hot water with the very man whose name he had just confirmed. He opened the gate and waved them through.

Derek looked over at Jackson with a glare. “What the Hell was that?”

“Not a clue,” Jackson admitted honestly.

Dean stopped the car. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t the kid we’re looking for named Brett? Lives with his Mom?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Brett and Karen Crezski.”

Jackson found a strong enough Wi-Fi signal and hacked the DMV. When he pulled up the license, his jaw hit the floor. He was staring at a picture… _of himself!_ “What in the…?”

Derek leaned over and took the laptop from him. “This doesn’t make any sense. This is a picture of you. Same height, weight, and everything. It’s… _you_.”

“Do we still think leaving the two of them over there is a good idea?” Sam asked.

Dean thought about it a moment. “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears. We already think these two are werewolves, but are we thinking the kid might be something else? A shifter or something Jackson has crossed paths with?”

“One way to find out,” Derek grumbled.

Reluctantly, Sam agreed. He texted the address to the other two. “Something is creepy about this place. It was harder getting maps of the area than some government facilities I’ve hacked. Be careful.”

 

Sam and Dean walked into the police station and were met by an officer who introduced himself as Marcus Jordan and introduced his coworker as Leigh Turner. Sam smiled at the attractive woman, but he almost laughed aloud when he realized that Dean hadn’t so much as noticed her. Whatever effect this “mating for life” thing had on Dean—whether he could be called gay, straight, or something else entirely—he only had eyes for Derek now. No wonder Derek being upset at him was having such an obvious effect (at least to Sam).

“Nick Monohan,” the chief said, extending his hand to each brother in turn after the introductions were made. “What can I do for you?”

Dean noticed that the man seemed nervous. He smell the salinity of the perspiration beading under Monohan’s collar. “Just following up on a lead in an ongoing investigation. We came to talk to one of your residents.”

The chief cocked an eyebrow, genuinely curious—and growing more nervous by the second as his heartrate betrayed. “Who?”

Sam knew his brother’s nonverbal cues enough to sense that something was amiss. He continued the ruse, waiting for a better time to find out what he wasn’t privy to. “Brett Crezski.”

“I’m confused,” Monohan admitted honestly. “Brett’s been gone for ages now. In fact, no one has seen or heard from him since he left town with his girlfriend. Which is why I’m curious as to why the officer at the gate said he was in your car when you came through?”

Sam pulled out his phone and pulled up a photo of Jackson. He showed it to the chief. He tapped it so that it showed the time stamp.

“This was a few weeks ago,” Monohan noted. “If someone has seen Brett that recently, you clearly know more than I do.”

Dean shook his head. “That isn’t Brett Crezski. The young man who came to town with us is named Jackson Whittemore.”

“I don’t understand,” the chief confessed blankly.

The gears in Sam’s head were turning quickly, so he jumped in and took point. “Mr. Whittemore is adopted, and in his quest to locate his birth parents, we ran his fingerprints, which came back as belonging to your Mr. Crezski. Same height, weight, birthday… everything.”

Monohan’s own mind was working. “So Brett changed his name? The only reason his prints were on file was a few incidents of juvenile mischief. He’s not wanted for any crimes in the Gates, so what’s this about?”

Dean’s expression hardened. “That isn’t Brett Crezski,” he repeated. “Same vital statistics and fingerprints, though, so put two and two together, Chief.”

“Twins,” Monohan said after a moment.

“Twins,” Sam repeated. “Twins with no records of their shared birth, which means illegal adoptions. Mr. Whittemore’s birth parents are dead, so we’ve come to town to speak to Brett’s mother.”

The chief shook his head. “Brett isn’t adopted,” he said adamantly.

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked.

Monohan opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly closed it. “He isn’t. I know this for a fact. Peg, our local doctor here delivered him.”

“You’re lying!” Dean shouted, slamming his hands on the desk. The two police officers outside heard the noise and looked in, alarmed. The chief shook his head and waved them off.

“You know the circumstances of one of your resident’s birth despite his moving here as a child and your own arrival years later?” Sam challenged.

The chief shook his head. “Your files must be mistaken. Peg can clear this up.”

“You’re lying,” Dean repeated. “I can tell.”

Monohan opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced by a look that Sam could only describe as abject terror. Sam followed the man’s widened eyes to see a handsome young man that bore an obvious resemblance to the chief. He looked to be about Jackson’s age. “Hey, Dad,” he said when he entered. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“N-no, son,” he stammered, trying to smile. “Agents, this is my son, Charlie. Charlie, these are federal agents here to speak to Karen and Brett about an old investigation from before they moved to the Gates.”

Charlie cocked his head curiously. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Brett hasn’t been around since he ran off with my ex. Too bad. He and I have some unfinished business.”

“Is there something I can do for you, son?” the chief asked nervously.

“No,” Charlie smiled. “Devon heard that there were some faces in town we might be interested in. Nothing here for me, so I’ll leave you to it. I have somewhere else to be. See you at home, Dad.”

The brothers simply watched the uncomfortable exchange until Charlie had left the station. Before either could speak, Monohan spoke first. “Listen. Please don’t ask questions, because I won’t be able to explain in any way that wouldn’t get me locked up, but if Devon and Charlie know about you, they probably know about the two guys that came here with you. You have to get to this Jackson kid and get him out of here before it’s too late!”

“What are you talking about?” Dean demanded.

The chief shook his head. “We don’t have time for this. If Charlie finds Jackson and thinks he’s Brett, he’ll kill him.”

“Why would your son want the Crezski kid dead? All over a girl?” Sam asked.

Monohan sighed. “That’s not my son—not really. Listen, please, don’t ask questions. He’s… he’s not in control of himself.”

“Dammit!” Dean cursed. “I thought I smelled sulfur.”

Sam looked at him uncertainly. “I couldn’t smell it.”

“Something was trying to mask it, but my senses are sharper than yours,” Dean told him.

The chief held out his hands to get their attention. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest. “I just don’t want your friend to get killed. Get him and get out of this town— _please_ —before it’s too late!”

Dean glared at him. “I think you know exactly what we’re talking about,” he said, leaning forward with glowing crimson eyes. “And you’re going to talk… _NOW!_ ”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the story notes to reflect that absolutely no familiarity with the series "The Gates" is required. I'll give enough background info to get you through it if you never saw it :) The only thing to know is that Brett Crezski is played by Colton Haynes, and like Jackson eventually became, Brett is a werewolf.

“So what are we going to say?” Jackson asked. “Have you given any thought to that?”

Derek said nothing. He merely glared at his former Beta and walked up to the front door, knocking.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Flying by the seat of our ass. That works, too.”

He had barely gotten his protestations out before someone answered. A middle-aged blond woman, clearly dogged by years of worry, offered a forced smile to Derek. ”Yes? Can I he….” Her voice trailed off when she looked at Jackson. ”Brett?”

Jackson started to explain, “I’m not….” His words were cut short when she embraced him. They only remained that way for an instant before she released him and stepped back. “NO!” she cried. “You’re not him! You’re just another of Devon’s tricks! Tell her to leave me alone! I don’t know where he is!”

“Ma’am, he’s not your son, if you’ll give us a moment, we’ll try to explain,” Derek said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Her eyes glowed gold. “You’re not my son, but you _are_ a werewolf. Both of you are. I can smell it.” Both men flashed their eyes red in response and nodded in unison. She seemed taken aback by the display. “Your eyes… why aren’t they like mine?”

“We’re both Alphas,” Derek explained.

Karen Crezski shook her head. “Our Alpha, he didn’t have red eyes.”

“Then he was not really an Alpha, right?” Jackson asked Derek.

The Pureblood grimaced at his choice of words. “I’m Derek Hale, and this is Jackson Whittemore. The similarities between him and your son were just as much a surprise to us as you. It’s one reason we came to seeking you and your son out. Another is that we’re trying to locate other packs. Some may be like ours, but others, perhaps not. The eye color may be one of those differences, but was your Alpha stronger—I mean _truly_ stronger—than the rest of your pack?”

Karen shook her head. “No, not in the way you mean. He was our leader, but his strength was one of skill and experience.”

“I suspect your pack was actually all Betas, then,” Derek explained. “The original pack members likely splintered off of a pack with an Alpha with eyes like ours. Are there any with eyes that glow blue?”

She shook her head once again. “No. All are gold.”

Jackson picked up on something she said. “You talk about the Alpha in the past tense. Is he dead? Was he killed? What about the Alpha that took his place?”

Derek bristled at the callousness of the words, but he could see the inquisitive curiosity in the younger man’s face. He clearly meant no disrespect. He wasn’t the Jackson that hurt people deliberately anymore. The Pureblood offered a sincere expression. “Please. Anything you can tell us stays between us. We’re trying to get answers, and if we can, we’d like to help you and Brett, too.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Simon Ford was our Alpha. He was killed, and Zach Ross took his place as the new Alpha.”

Jackson was not Lydia, but he was always brighter than most people gave him credit for being. He noticed her choice of words again. “You said killed, not died or murdered,” he pointed out. “You also didn’t say Zach Ross was the one who killed him.”

“I don’t know anything for certain,” she admitted, “but I always suspected that Simon’s son Lukas was the one that actually killed him.”

Derek interjected this time. “And Lukas’ eyes didn’t turn blue?”

“No,” she answered. “What do blue eyes have anything to do with anything?”

Jackson explained, “When a werewolf—at least among those we know—kills an innocent, their eyes go from gold to blue.”

She almost laughed. “That explains it, then. Simon Ford was a great many things, but innocent was not among them. The drunk used to beat the shit out of Joan and Lukas relentlessly. We all knew it, but no one lifted a finger to stop him. He was our Alpha. Everyone feared him.”

“You can get drunk?” Jackson asked, strangely intrigued.

“Yes,” she said, perplexed by the question. Both turned to Derek for answers.

Derek saw their faces, so he offered a speculative reply. “A group of Betas can be a pack without an Alpha and not descend into Omega status, but just as an Alpha draws strength from his pack, the pack draws strength from him. Even away from me or Scott, you still drew on our power. An inability to get drunk was a side effect of that.”

The answer surprised Jackson. “You gave us that power on purpose?” he asked.

Derek nodded. “It was the first question Scott asked me after he became the pack’s Alpha. He could feel you, just as he could feel Isaac after he left. We gave it to you so you would remain Betas without having to worry about becoming an Omega. You were always pack. You would always have a home with us.”

Jackson had no words. He thought his feelings for Derek and McCall had changed after he became a werewolf. That was nothing to how he felt now. He just sat there, dumbfounded. Finally, Karen interjected. “How can I help?”

 

“Oh, my God!” Monohan exclaimed, scrambling back away from Dean. “You’re like him! You’re like my son!”

Dean bared his fangs and claws. “I’m a werewolf, not a demon,” he said before willing the telltale signs to recede. He glanced over at his brother. “Speaking of which: how’d you get Jackson’s eyes to photograph normal anyway?”

“Photoshop,” Sam shrugged dismissively. “So, Chief, why the Hell don’t you tell us what is going on here?”

Monohan shook his head. “Your eyes aren’t gold like the other werewolves. They’re red, like that… that _thing_ inside my son.”

“Red eyes?” Sam challenged. He looked over at Dean.

Dean growled in his non-werewolf way. “Damned Crossroads Demon.”

“What are you talking about?” the chief asked.

“The smell of sulfur and red eyes?” Dean began, “Your son’s body is being controlled by a Crossroads Demon. My red eyes mean I’m an alpha werewolf.”

Monohan shook his head. “The alpha here has gold eyes.”

“Then he’s not actually an Alpha. He’s a Beta,” Sam explained, cognizant of how much of a werewolf authority he had become in the time since Beacon Hills. “You’re obviously not surprised by any of this, so again, why don’t you tell us what is going on here.”

The chief sighed and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll start at the beginning, but we need to hurry. We need to get to your friends.”

As the trio climbed into the Impala, Monohan continued. “The Gates was built by Frank Buckley and William Harrison as a refuge for things not entirely human—things whose existence obviously doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Both are dead now, and the former’s ex-wife, Devon, is a witch who has the town under her thumb.”

“Skeezy ass witches,” Dean spat.

Sam cut in. “So I’m guessing the Crossroads Demon that’s in your son is the one she gets her mojo from. How did Charlie get involved?”

“His girlfriend, Andie, was a succubus. She drained too much of his life, and my wife and I stupidly agreed to let Devon _help_ him. She killed him, and when he opened his eyes again, that thing was in the driver’s seat,” the chief told them. “Ever since, the two of them have had the power to pretty well crush any opposition to her control of the Gates. Pretty stupid making a deal with the Devil like that, huh?”

Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “People in glass houses…,” he muttered.

“What?” Monohan asked.

“Never mind,” Sam answered. “A succubus, witches, werewolves, and a demon. What else are we dealing with here?”

Nick hesitated, and Dean caught the change in his heartrate. “What?” he barked.

“Vampires,” he reluctantly answered. “Most of them are dead now, though. They have their own system of checks and balances in place, and when Frank was killed, his wife Vanessa—a vampire—tried to retaliate against Devon, she killed them all. Those that are left keep to themselves to avoid a conflict with her.”

Dean grumbled, “This just gets better by the second.”

 

“Oh, Brett!” Charlie called out. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Karen Crezski’s face palled. “Oh, God, he’s here! He’ll kill you!” she warned Jackson.

Instinctively, Derek sprang to his feet and stepped in front of his Jackson. He moved to the door, ready to attack any who would pass through and dare threaten his former Beta. Jackson, for his part, was about to protest when his phone beeped with a text message. It was from Sam.

Reading the words, Jackson cursed. Looking at Karen, he grabbed her arm to get her attention. “Do you have any salt?”

“What?” she asked blankly.

“Salt! Do you have any?” he repeated. “And lots of it!”

She nodded. “There’s some forty-pound bags in the utility closet. We use for the pool. Will that work?”

“Yes!” he shouted. “Where is it?”

She pointed the way, while Derek looked on, confused. “Jackson, what is it?”

Jackson had already grabbed one of the bags, torn it open, and had begun pouring it over the threshold. “Sam says this Charlie guy is a demon,” he explained.

Derek stared at him blankly. “The salt?”

“Should keep him out,” he explained with that patented Jackson smirk. “While you’ve been getting to know my brother Biblically, I’ve been getting to know him in a different way—learning what it is they do and how they do it.”

The Pureblood’s eyebrows betrayed his annoyance at the comment, but he said nothing until Jackson ran past him. “Now what?”

Willing one of his hands to bear its claws, Jackson sliced open his wrist while Derek looked on in confusion. His nails dripping blood, he tossed back the rug on the foyer and began drawing a circle on the floor. With preternatural strength, he used his bleeding arm to push furniture out of his way.

Once his handiwork was done, Jackson returned the rug and furniture to their rightful place. His werewolf regeneration quickly sealed and erased his wounds once he stopped inflicting them. He grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen and wiped away the bloody traces and tossed it aside. “Now we invite him inside for a chat,” he said, opening the door. “Hopefully, this works, but he’s after Brett—er—me. I want you both to stay back so you don’t get hurt.”

“Not a chance in Hell,” Derek growled, already ripping his own shirt off, exposing his bare chest in preparation to transform.

Jackson growled. “I mean it! When I was the Kanima, I almost killed you. I’ve felt bad enough since, but now you’re my brother’s mate. If this doesn’t work, find them and fix this fucked up town.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Derek challenged, dropping his jeans. For expediency’s sake, he usually went without underwear, so he was standing there completely nude. “I’m not letting you get yourself killed, _particularly_ since you happen to be my mate’s brother! Not to mention, Stiles would never let me hear the end of it.”

Jackson smiled because it was true. The bemused smirk was short-lived, though, as Charlie—more accurately, the meat-suit formerly known as Charlie—walked into the house. Jackson looked at him. “You wanted me? Well here I am!” he roared, fangs dripping saliva like some slavering beast.

When “Charlie” stepped forward, Jackson reflexively took a step back. The demon no doubt thought “Brett” was doing so out of fear. In truth, it was to position it where he wanted it. With just those few feet, the Devil’s Trap earned its name. Charlie tried to move forward again but was halted by the invisible barrier. His eyes turned red as he railed against it… ineffectually.

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief as he let his werewolf features recede. Derek cocked an eyebrow with an expression that clearly indicated he was impressed while he pulled his clothes back on. “You knew that would work?” the Pureblood asked.

“Hoped is more like it,” Jackson replied with that cocky grin of his. Turning his attention back to the demon, he smiled again. “I think you’ve been holding this Charlie kid hostage long enough. _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_.”

The demon coughed and sputtered, but he managed to scream at the young werewolf. “I’m all that’s keeping him alive. If you banish me, Charlie Monohan is dead for good.”

Jackson said nothing. Finally, Derek broke the silence. The former Beta looked at his former Alpha. “We’re definitely out of my league here. Now, we wait for the cavalry.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Pesky real-life and all. This chapter is shorter than the others because it seemed like a natural breaking point. More coming soon!

Already in route, it didn’t take long for the elder Winchester brothers and Chief Monohan to arrive at the Crezski home.  Hastened by urgency, the trio rushed into the house to find a trio of werewolves staring almost blankly at the imprisoned Crossroads demon, unsure of what to do next.

“Um,” Sam stammered, surveying the scene.

Dean simply smirked.  It was moments like this that Derek could see the family resemblance between eldest and youngest Winchester more than between the two full-blooded siblings.  That same self-assured, cocky swagger made Jackson a mirror image to Dean.  “We came to rescue you,” he chuckled at his brother and mate.

“Nice job,” Derek and Jackson said in unison, to the surprise of both.  Both were suddenly hyper-cognizant of just how much time they had spent together in close-quarters over recent months.

Sam knelt down to inspect the Devil’s Trap.  “Nice work.  You’ve been paying attention.”

Jackson nodded.  “I was going to try to exorcise him, but he said he’s the only thing that’s keeping this Charlie kid together.”

“Is that true?” Nick asked, a pained look of concern as he stared at the shell that was once his son.

Dean nodded—again, a grim expression reminiscent of his youngest brother.  “Probably.  Based on what you told us, Charlie died.  He might be walking and talking right now, but that hasn’t changed.  The parasite leaves, the meat-suit not only goes back to its pre-possessed state, but with the added bonus of suffering whatever injuries it has suffered since.”

The father in the room was on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by feelings of hopelessness and helplessness.  “Is there anything we can do?”

Sam and Dean looked at one another wordlessly.

“What?” Derek scowled at them.

Jackson was the one who answered.  “Nothing _we_ can do.  It’s a Crossroads demon, so someone must have made a deal,” he explained to his former Alpha, his eyes cutting over to Chief Monohan.  “Since you said he was dead at the time, I’m guessing you.”

Derek growled at the accusation, but it was unclear whether he was growling at his former Beta’s candor or the actions of the police officer.  For his part, Nick just nodded solemnly.  “I haven’t been studying up on the lore as much as Jackson, but that seems like it’s against the rules.  Wouldn’t it have to be the kid who made the deal?”

“It wasn’t Charlie who made the deal,” Sam said.  “It was Nick.”

Nick added, “And his mother.”

Dean and Sam looked at one another again, and again, Derek scowled at them.  “What?”

“That’s not the way it works,” Dean told his mate.  “A soul offered gets what it bargained for.  If there were two souls offered up, then the whole deal is invalid.”

Charlie chuckled.  “Not if the stupid bitch sold her soul willingly long before that.”

This time, it was Karen Crezski who chimed in.  “Devon had been controlling Sarah for a while before this happened through a combination of herbs she gave half the town as a tea.”

“Skeezy-ass witches!” Dean spat.

Sam’s reaction was altogether different.  He actually smiled.  “Then her deal is invalid.  He can’t claim both souls.”

Charlie laughed.  “Who cares?  Daddy dearest over there belongs to me in another five years.  You can have the bitch.”

“But you didn’t deliver on your promise,” Sam smirked.  “By taking possession of Charlie and not restoring his body, you’re in violation of the terms of the agreement.”

Nick’s anxiety was palpable.  “Can you help my son?”

“We know someone who can,” Dean said, grabbing his cell.  “First, I’m going to call Cas to come heal this kid and toss this snake-oil salesman back to the deepest pit in Hell.  Then I’m going to call Crowley and tell him to be expecting you.  Pretty sure he’ll be more than interested in one of his lackeys going rogue and breaking the rules.”

Charlie shook his head confidently.  “Castiel?  The wards Devon had me place upon this town keep out those meddlesome angels.  And Crowley?  That upstart social-climber?  I heard the little shit became King of Hell while I was here.  Quite a step up for that simple tailor whose soul I took for three little inches on his Johnson four hundred years ago.”

Sam’s mouth was agape.  “You’re the one who struck the deal with him?”

“The one and only,” Charlie smiled.  “First off, if I can bar the door against your little pet Seraph, do you really think I can’t swat my own bitch’s nose to keep him off my grass?”

As if on cue, Dean found that his phone was useless.  No calls were getting out.  The screeching tones echoed through the ears of the werewolves, and even the humans got the drift.

“Now what?” Nick asked, nearing panic.

Derek growled at the demon.  “Please tell me there’s something we can do about this smug asshole.”

Jackson’s eyebrow raised.  “What about another deal?  Sam, you told me about how Crowley, even before he was King, was able to work around Lucifer’s magic with the Horsemen because of Bobby’s deal.  Wouldn’t that be able to punch through the barrier?”

“It might,” Sam admitted.  “But we’d need someone willing to offer up their soul to do it.”

A familiar voice called out from the door.  “I’ll do it.”

When everyone turned to see who was speaking, they saw a familiar face as well—Jackson’s.


	6. Chapter Six

“Brett!” Karen Crezski exclaimed, running over to the newcomer. For his part, her son just stared blankly at Jackson.

Jackson just nonchalantly waved back, becoming inured to the ever-growing strangeness that had engrossed his life. It had begun shortly after Peter Hale turned Scott, but since meeting and joining his brothers on the road, even Beacon Hills seemed “normal” by comparison. In the hours since they had arrived at the Gates, he now considered having a doppleganger par for the course.

The frantic mother, pushed her son back. At first, Derek was afraid the boy wasn’t who he said he was, but such concerns proved unfounded. “Brett, where have you been?” Karen demanded. “I thought you left town with Andie.”

Brett shook his head. “I managed to convince her to leave to try to find a way to control her problem and help Charlie, but I couldn’t leave. All of this is my fault. I couldn’t leave without making it right, and if my soul is what it takes to do that, then I’m willing to pay it.”

“That doesn’t answer the question of where you’ve been,” Dean pointed out gruffly.

“With me,” another young man said when he stepped into the house. The Winchesters and Derek instantly settled into a wary, aggressive stance, the weight shifted onto the balls of their feet. They cautiously eyed the unfamiliar face, but the Crezskis and Monohan did not seem alarmed by the presence, so the tension in the room returned to baseline. The stranger defiantly moved next to Brett, though, almost protectively, lacing his fingers through those of Jackson’s lookalike.

Karen seemed surprised. “You and Lukas?”

Brett nodded. “He hid me out when I didn’t know where to go or what to do. Over time, we got close.”

“Lukas? As in Ford? The alpha’s kid?” Dean asked. The fact that his brother’s “twin” was involved with this man was hardly noteworthy, particularly given his own relationship. That was a little too “glass house” in his book. He was more intrigued at the six degrees of supernatural separation that seemed to exist in this town.

Lukas seemed surprised at the recognition, but he nodded hesitantly.

“Flare your eyes,” Derek growled, flashing his own crimson. The response from Brett and Lukas was immediate. Both men reflexively did as the other Pureblood instructed, though it was through instinct alone. Derek and Jackson followed suit.

Nick was quick to step in. “Relax. They’re not like him,” he said, motioning to Charlie. “They’re werewolves, like you. Well, not exactly like you guys, but yeah, werewolves.”

Sam stared at the pair curiously. “I think your guilt may be a little misplaced,” he told Brett. “Your eyes should have turned if you were responsible for Charlie’s death.”

“Assuming they play by the same rules we do. Remember what Derek told us about Beta packs,” Dean reminded his brother. “Lukas, did you kill your father?”

The question seemed out of the blue, but Nick knew where the eldest Winchester was going with this. “Just answer the question, son,” he told him. “Whatever you say is off-the-record here. We just need a lot of answers to a lot of questions so we can be certain what we’re dealing with here.”

Hesitantly and quietly, Lukas nodded. “I don’t understand.”

“No red eyes,” Derek said gruffly.

“I have red eyes,” _Charlie_ smiled, demonstrating for effect. “And as fascinating as all this is, I suggest you let me go. Let me have Brett there so I can satisfy Charlie’s bloodlust, and I _might_ even let you all live.”

Brett ignored the demon. “I might not have directly killed Charlie, but Andie only did because I swapped her meds for placebos. Tell me how to use my soul to make the call.”

The elder Winchester brothers looked at one another, motioning for Brett to follow them. “Brett, no!” Karen screamed, but her son just shook his head solemnly.

“Five years, Mom. Not only have I turned someone I once loved into a killer, I’ve murdered someone, and I’ve unleashed this _thing_ onto the Gates, letting Devon run amok. I’d rather trade my soul for a chance to make this right than live for one more minute with this guilt.” He looked at Lukas with a pained expression, but the other werewolf, tears rolling down his cheeks, simply smiled in understanding. “Don’t let her try to stop me.”

Brett followed the Hunters, and as he had predicted, Karen tried to follow. Lukas halted her in her tracks, the woman wailing as both cried at what the young man they loved proposed. “Go,” Jackson told his former Alpha. “I’ll make sure our friend here stays in his cage.” Derek didn’t protest.

 

Brett led them into the woods where two paths converged. Sam shoved a photograph he had thought to grab from the house into the box Dean withdrew from the Impala’s trunk along with the other ingredients. As an added precaution, though, they hastily set up a crude Devil’s Trap. After seeing Jackson do the same, Derek watched intently, committing it all to memory. Burying the items at the Crossroads, there was little to do for the foursome to do but wait…

… They didn’t have to wait long. What they got was a surprise when a demon appeared… in the shape of Charlie. “I told you morons that this was my sandbox,” he smiled. “No one in or out but me.”

Dean’s phone chirped with a message, and he looked down at it annoyed. “It’s Jackson,” he glared at Sam. “He says the demon just vanished.”

Sam grimaced. “I don’t understand how it popped out of one Devil’s Trap and into another. That’s shouldn’t be possible.”

Derek, surprisingly, was the one who had a guess. “What if it’s bound by its own rules? It’s keeping the other Crossroads demons out, so when we summoned one, the stronger spell took hold and pulled it here.”

Dean considered his mate’s words for a moment. “You’re right,” he smiled. “This thing’s all talk. It’s putting on a show for us. It’s trapped here by the witch’s magic.”

When the demon didn’t have an immediate comeback, the Hunters knew it was true. Derek had figured out that much, but he was clueless what that really meant. Finally, he asked them, “So now what?”

“Now we make a different kind of deal,” Dean smirked at the demon.


	7. Chapter Seven

The Gates was a community of the affluent, so houses—mansions, really—were in no short supply. Finding a location away from prying eyes was another matter entirely. This large of a confluence would have surely drawn attention had they been assembled together, but using the systems that the vampires already had in place, each person had been brought to the Radcliff residence one by one, leaving no one the wiser.

Dean kept looking over at their hosts. Dylan and his wife, Claire, seemed like the picture-perfect suburban couple. That was the problem with this town—everyone fit that description. Even with his heightened senses, it would have been hard to pinpoint what off with Dylan. His wife, on the other hand, was struggling to keep her composure around so many potential food sources. The Hunter could see the subtle movements that practically screamed “addict” if one knew where to look. Derek, by his expression, didn’t trust either of them. Dean couldn’t argue that logic. If it hadn’t been for Benny, he would be firmly in that camp as well. The only thing that seemed to settle the pureblood was the Radcliffs’ adopted daughter. If they hadn’t fed from her in all these years, they obviously were more in control of their urges that the average bloodsucker.

Off to one side, Nick was arguing with—or rather being argued _at_ by his wife. Their daughter was talking with Emily and pretending not to notice… everyone was. Sam was very grateful he didn’t have the heightened senses of the werewolves. All of them kept wincing at the endless barrage. The woman was on a rampage, saying that they couldn’t take this chance with her son and certainly not their daughter. The chief countered by explaining (again and again) that Charlie wasn’t _Charlie_ right now, and if they didn’t try, there might never be another chance. Dana Monohan pretty much ignored her mother, saying that she wasn’t about to sit idly by and do nothing in this Hail Mary gambit.

Like the two girls, Marcus Jordan was fairly newly-awakened to the supernatural presence in their community. Oddly enough, it wasn't seeing the werewolves transform that convinced him but his partner, Leigh Turner shooting herself in the heart that did the trick. That one caught Jackson completely off-guard, and he  Well, the _heart_ wasn’t exactly accurate. The female deputy, whose real name was apparently Isabelle Armont, stood back up, walked over to the desk upon which she had set a box that she had brought with her. Opening it up, her still beating heart was inside. A hasty explanation by the Hunters about the vodoun her ex had used to accomplish this feat as punishment seemed to satisfy everyone’s curiosity, for now at least.

The local werewolf pack was in attendance, a show of solidarity and support for their own. The high school coach, Zach Ross, was the acting alpha, and in addition to Brett, his mother Karen, and Lukas were others whose names Jackson couldn’t recall… and then there was Lexie Wade. The she-wolf kept alternately staring at him like he had grown a second head or like he was a juicy steak and she was a convict receiving her final meal on death row. It didn’t take much to figure out that she had, at least once upon a time, had feelings for Brett.

That left Peg and Mia Mueller. The town doctor and her daughter were witches, which did little to set Dean at ease, no matter how many protestations the other residents offered on her behalf. She was flipping through the books the Winchesters had brought and the notes they had made. She periodically stole glances at Derek and constantly looked between Jackson and Brett. Sarah Monohan finally fell silent and walked over to her friend and trusted advisor. “What do you think, Peg? Will it work?”

Closing the weathered tome, Peg considered her words carefully. “I don’t see that we have much choice. Generally, a crossroads deal is a one-and-done situation, as I’m sure our new friends here can attest,” she began, clearly referring to the Hunters. “But the deal is… complicated. The only reason that the demon could be lingering here is that it’s trapped, but that would take more than just Devon’s magic. Charlie isn’t dead. He must have just been so close to it after Andie drained him that not only could I not tell it, but the demon couldn’t, either.”

“My son’s… _alive_?” Nick repeated incredulously.

Peg nodded. “Provided that he hasn’t—and won’t be—injured too gravely, he should be fully restored by now. That’s what it didn’t want us to know… why it interrupted your attempted exorcism,” she continued, motioning to Jackson. “It can be forced out. Right now, though, Charlie’s still confused. It’s almost amalgamated his own agenda with that of the thing inside him, and vice versa.”

“And until Charlie’s goal is achieved, the demon won’t let go,” Sam interrupted, trying to validate what he thought he now understood. “And until it does, the deal isn’t complete, meaning Devon doesn’t have everything she asked for.”

“Yes,” Peg confirmed.

Claire Radcliff was clearly growing more agitated by the second, though likely from hatred for the witch in question as much as any thirst. “What does Devon want?”

“Power,” her husband answered her. “And the only way she can have it all is by destroying the Gates and everyone in it.”

Karen Crezski suddenly seemed very much the protective mother. “But what does Charlie want?” Deep down, she already knew.

Peg was slow to respond. “You have to understand that the creature is feeding on his base desires. He wants what it considers justice: it wants revenge.”

“It wants me dead,” Brett said plainly.

Dean was quick to correct him. “Which is why you going all Monty Hall with your soul is a bad idea for multiple reasons.”

“So how do we get Charlie to let the demon go?” Dana asked, her concern for her brother evident in her face. “You know? So we can get rid of it?”

Jackson smiled. “We give it what it wants.”

 

The statement caused the room to erupt in argument for a while after that. Sarah Monohan was obviously in support of the idea, with the support of Claire Radcliff and some of the others, while Karen Crezski and Brett’s pack were obviously of an opposing mind. Sam and Dean and some of those not so vested in the stakes were trying to keep the peace. Derek was quietly watching his former Beta.

“Okay. What gives?” he finally asked. “You’re not the guy I once knew, but there’s still enough of the old Jackson Whittemore in there for me to know that you’re not suggesting rolling over and letting someone else win.”

Jackson grinned. “Which is what I’ve been trying to say for the last half-hour, but no one will shut up long enough to hear me. It’s like being in a room where everybody talks as much as Stiles.”

“Who’s Stiles?” Brett asked, walking over to the join the pair, apparently nonplussed by the commotion.

“My brother,” Jackson replied. “He talks _constantly_.”

Brett listened with genuine interest. It was a casual conversation that seemed out of place given everything that was going on, but given that he was interacting with someone who looked identical to him down to the fingerprints, there was something less than casual about it. It was the first time the two had really had a chance to speak. “I didn’t realize you guys had another brother. He a werewolf, too?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. A succubus, vampires, werewolves, witches, and God knows what else was in this town, but this was just downright weird. He felt like he was watching _The Parent Trap_ or another of those contrived lookalike movies, but here they were, right in front of him.

“God, no! He’s a druid emissary now, but even that’s hard to wrap my head around,” Jackson laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. In his own supremely weird way, he’s probably the smartest person I know… well, aside from Lydia… and maybe Danny… and Sam.”

Realizing that they were getting no closer to the situation a few feet away resolving himself, Derek brought his fingers to his lips and whistled at a decibel level that was near-deafening to the non-werewolves and almost eardrum-shattering to those like himself. “If all of you are done,” he began in a tone unmistakably Alpha, “Jackson is going to explain what he meant.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the conclusion of "Storming the Gates". The chapter is a long one, but there's a lot going on. I didn't want to drag things out by including unnecessary breaks in the action. I hope you enjoy it!

“NO!” Stiles screamed into the camera on the other end of the Skype session.

To his credit, Jackson was completely calm. “Stiles, just listen….”

Stiles shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not! Look, I just got used to the idea of having a brother a few months ago. Once I did, then I had to get used to the idea that it was you, and now, for the first time in our entire lives, you’re not being a pain in my ass. I actually _like_ you,” he said, his lopsided grin creeping onto his face. His outrage had fled his face, and the expression mirrored the words that followed. “I don’t want to lose you, Jackson.”

“This town needs our help.” Jackson pulled Brett down next to him in front of the camera of his own laptop. “ _He_ needs our help. This is Brett Crezski. He’s a pureblood werewolf like Derek, and he and his whole pack—and everyone else in the Gates—are being held hostage in this town by a witch who’s made a deal with a demon who wants him dead.”

Stiles’ face grew larger and he leaned closer to the screen for a better look. “Whoa! That is freaky. Why does he look _exactly_ like you?”

“We’re still working on that,” Jackson told him, “but it’s going to be hard to get those answers if he and I are both dead.”

His brother gave a relenting sigh. “I don’t see how me teaching _another_ witch the spell I used to divvy up Scott’s power is a good idea. If this demon wants him—and by proxy, you, since you look just like him—dead, taking away your Alpha mojo seems like a death sentence.”

Peg placed a hand on Brett’s shoulder, tapping it gently to indicate that he should go rejoin the others while she spoke with Stiles alongside Jackson. “Stiles, I’m Peg Mueller. The girl behind me is my daughter, Mia, and she and I are both witches. That much is true,” she began, watching the young emissary tense. “But our magic comes from nature, the same source that your own talents tap, if I understand him correctly.”

“Okay, so your craft doesn’t come from some soul-sucking Hell-spawn… good to know,” Stiles countered, crossing his arms across his chest. “That doesn’t explain why I should give you the tools to take away Jackson’s best chance for survival.”

Jackson nodded at Peg, who took the hint to leave the brothers alone. “Then will you give me a chance to explain now without interrupting me?” he smiled. “I appreciate the sentiment—I really do—but it’s the right thing to do. It will work, this town will be free, and I’ll be around to be a pain in your ass again if you want.”

Stiles’ expression softened. “And ding-dong, the witch is dead?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Jackson grinned at him. He knew Stiles would do what he asked now. He just needed that reassurance. “Basically, I need to let this demon nearly kill me. That means I can’t be regenerating it right before everyone’s eyes. Once we do that, Charlie will think Brett is dead, and the demon will be distracted long enough for Sam and Dean to exorcise it.”

“And if it leaves before it fulfills the terms of its bargain, this Devon character won’t have enough juice to stop the villagers with their pitchforks,” Stiles finished for him.

Jackson chuckled. “More like their fangs, claws, and bullets, but in a nutshell, that’s it.”

“Okay,” Stiles said reluctantly. “Put Peg on again. I’ll teach her how.”

Peg knelt down again. “Actually, if we’re going to launch a frontal assault against Devon, she knows I would be a part of it. That means Mia will have to be the one that maintains the link between Jackson and the werewolves here.”

Stiles nodded. “Let’s get started then.”

 

Sam had been talking logistics with Nick, Coach Ross, and Dylan. Dean and Derek had quietly been observing the conversation between Jackson and Stiles. “I don’t like this,” Dylan finally scowled.

“Neither do I,” Dean echoed. “I don’t like my brother being this reckless with his own life.”

Derek turned and raised one eyebrow at him. “I haven’t been doing the same research he has, but I’ve heard enough stories from you guys and Cas now to know it’s a family trait, albeit an aggravating one.”

Dean’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Yeah, he’s as hardheaded as Sam was when he was that age.”

“Sam’s not the only one I’m talking about,” Derek corrected casually, looking back at Jackson. “He’s you made-over, in particular—that same cocky swagger and refusal to let others see the real you for fear that you’ll appear weak. Unfortunately, he has that same penchant for wanting to sacrifice himself to protect others that both of you idiots do.”

Dean listened. Once Derek was done, he grinned at him. “You’re one to talk. Jackson and Stiles have filled me in on you as well.” Smiling broader, “I let you see the real me. I let you see _all_ of me.”

Derek’s cheeks burned crimson. “I set myself for that one, didn’t I?”

“Yup, you did,” Dean chuckled. “How about when we get done here, you and I take a few weeks off? No talk of me not being a werewolf. No talk about Jackson’s double. No Jackson, even. No Sam. Just me and you.”

Derek smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“On one condition,” Dean stipulated.

“What’s that?” Derek asked curiously.

Dean smiled. “I get to see _all_ of you.”

“Okay, someone needs to point me at this witch— _now_ —so I can rip her throat out… with my teeth,” the pureblood growled, shifting to accommodate the burgeoning discomfort in his jeans.

 

“Are you ready for this?” Sam asked Jackson. The concern in his tone and body language were unmistakable.

Brett was the next one to ask a question, before Jackson had even had a chance to respond to the last one. “It’s not too late to back out. All of this is my fault, it should be me facing….”

“Will you stop it?” Jackson smiled. “Both of you. I’m doing this because I’m the only one who can, given that he and I share the same ugly mug. You? This is not your fault. You didn’t mean for Charlie to get hurt, you didn’t hurt him, and you certainly didn’t invite a demon to possess him.”

Peg walked over to them, and Brett twitched nervously. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“I know, it doesn’t make sense,” Jackson answered for her, “but we need her and that thing inside Charlie to buy our ruse. I’m not loaning you my power for you to use it—I’m doing it so that I can pass myself off as you.”

He glanced over at Peg. “You sure about these?” he asked, motioning towards his eyes.

“Yes. Chew on these herbs,” she began, handing him a few sticks that looked like desiccated cinnamon sticks. “When the spell takes most or all of the red from your eyes, you should be left with gold now instead of blue.”

“Then I think we’re ready,” Jackson said calmly… as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The same definitely could not be said of Dean, who looked like he was ready to gnaw his own arm off from anxiety. Obviously against his better judgment, the eldest Winchester said nothing.

As everyone started to move into position, it was Derek who broke the silence with his former Beta. “If you get yourself killed, I will kill you,” he warned with his usual solemn stoicism. He let the mask fall away though, and his worry was evident. “So just don’t, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Jackson grinned. “Do you really think I’d miss out on you two settling down, having kids, and making me Uncle Jackson?”

Derek growled in response. To most, it would come across as threatening, but Jackson knew that was just his former Alpha’s way of thanking him from making it an uncomfortable “chick flick moment”, as Dean called them.

 

Once everyone was in position, Jackson walked out in front of the Buckley mansion. It was yet another tasteless move on the part of the witch, who had orchestrated her ex-husband Frank’s death and then personally been responsible for his wife’s. “Can Charlie come out and play?” he cried out. “I’m sick of running, Devon. If you want me, come and get me!”

In show of support for their “pack-mate”, the other werewolves, including Karen Crezski, gathered alongside of him. He felt Mia’s spell take hold. To her credit, it felt the exact opposite of the rush he had experienced when Stiles had borrowed from Scott. One by one, Brett’s pack took on their wolf forms. Derek had tried to teach him the ability, but he had failed to master it. Apparently, non-purebloods had a difficult go at learning it. He simply hadn’t yet had the time or practice.

The doors to the house flew open of their own accord, with the force one might expect to accompany a tornado touching down. Devon and “Charlie” walked out, their final victory assured in their minds. “Thank you for making this easy for me, Brett. I really have wanted to bring an end to this for years now.”

“Your stranglehold on this town ends now,” Peg shouted, walking out to join the others. “I should have never taught you the basics of magic. Had I not, there would be far more people alive here in the Gates, and your soul wouldn’t be damned to Hell.”

Devon laughed mockingly. “You only introduced me to it. You’ve never had any real power, Peg. Once I had a taste, I knew that I was meant to rule!”

“You’re delusional!” Peg protested, hurling an invisible bolt of pure, telekinetic force at her former pupil, only to have it harmlessly and effortlessly rebuffed. Its true purpose, though, was an effort to keep her distracted. Leigh/Isabelle had learned enough voodoo in her attempts to undo her own condition that she was able to bind the thing’s words by wrapping a leather thong around the tongues of Charlie’s parents. The demon would not be able to warn the witch about the plan to rob her of her power source. Through more sympathetic blood magic, the strip of fabric she tied around Dana Monohan’s eyes would prevent the demon from being able to distinguish Brett and Jackson.

Devon shook her head. “Is that the best you’ve got? Really, Peg. I expected more,” she mocked, retaliating with her own magic. The doctor was sent flying through the air before hurdling to the ground.

Marcus, meanwhile, had accompanied Dean through the rear of the house after they broke through the locked door. They were looking for whatever dark talisman had allowed the witch to “leash a great white” as Dean called it. Demons willingly bartered with witches for souls in exchange for power, but Devon had basically made this one its bitch. The Hunter remembered all too well what a bound Reaper had done to its “master”, and they weren’t the malevolent entities that crossroads demons were. It didn’t take long—in her hubris, Devon felt invincible. Dean immediately soaked the altar in kerosene and texted Sam.

Sam, seeing the message, nodded from where he was hidden behind a tree. As one wolf after the other was dispatched by the witch and demon, Jackson knew it was now or never. He charged at Charlie, who drove his fist into the werewolf’s stomach, blood and gore spilling out onto the ground. Sam shouted “NOW!” through the air… and the phone he had just dialed to his brother. Immediately beginning the words of the Roman Ritual, he drew his gun and opened fire on Devon as Derek pounced on her from behind.

A fire erupted from within the house, and a plume of black smoke began to spill from Charlie’s mouth. Devon used her magic to cast the wolf aside. She stood, blood dripping from the bite and claw marks, with a triumphant smile on her face when she looked at the “dead” werewolf. “It doesn’t matter, you fools! The deal is done now. You can’t stop me!”

Mia released her spell, and Brett’s eyes went back to their golden color. Without the slightest hesitation, he rushed from where he was concealed to Jackson’s side. The other werewolf wasn’t moving. “Something’s wrong!” he called out in a panic.

Enraged, Derek charged at the witch again, but he slammed painfully against an invisible barrier. Sam and Dean’s bullets fared no better. Nothing was getting through, and all anyone could do was watch helplessly as Devon’s chanting was causing the smoked-out demon to begin forcing its way back into its host body. The Radcliffs railed against the unseen wall with preternatural might. Peg and Mia began their own chanting, trying ineffectually to counter the magic.

Finally, Brett stood. He walked to the edge of the boundary. “Charlie, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “You didn’t deserve any of this. My petty jealousy did all of this, and if my body or soul will make it right, I offer them up gladly.”

Devon screamed, “You’re mine! Kill him!”

The demon seemed conflicted. He made no efforts to move as a war was waged internally. Finally, its red eyes faded, and Charlie looked at Brett. “Help me,” he pleaded weakly.

Brett began pushing against the barrier. It tried to rebuff him, but he wouldn’t stop.

Derek shifted back to his naked, human form as he moved next to Jackson. Gripping one forearm against his own, Dean joined him, doing the same from the other side. The unconscious werewolf began to draw upon their power to augment his own, allowing him to regenerate from the grievous wounds he had suffered. The elder Hunter caught a strange expression on Dean’s face. “Why are you smiling? We’re losing.”

A pair of eyes turned a brilliant red—but this time, it wasn’t Charlie’s… it was Brett’s. Derek looked back at his mate. “Because I’m getting a sense of déjà vu.”

As if on cue, Brett was able to force his way to his former rival. The force field imploded, and a rush of wind threw everyone but the newly-awakened True Alpha to the ground. Devon roared in frustration, rising to her feet to seize control of the demon still bound within the boy, but there was a sound of flapping wings just before the appearance of a trench coat-clad man who laid a hand upon Charlie’s forehead. Castiel’s eyes glowed as he cast the demon out.

“I’ll just summon it back,” Devon laughed, tears or rage streaking the dirt now caked upon her cheeks.

A voice behind her cleared his throat. “I don’t think so, love.”

When Devon turned to look behind her, she saw a bearded man in a dark suit. With a Scottish-tinged accent he smiled at her. “You see, your little pet doesn’t have your magic to help hide it from me anymore, so I’m going to have to show him _exactly_ what it means to defy ME!” Crowley screamed. “I have all sorts of new torments to visit upon it—and you—because I get the distinct impression you’ll be joining us shortly.

The King of Hell vanished, and once the assemblage gathered their wits, two women moved towards Devon. She tried to use her magic to stop them, but nothing happened. In the blink of an eye, Karen Crezski and Claire Radcliff descended upon either side of her neck with their fangs. Werewolf and vampire savagely severed the witch’s head from her shoulders.

 

The various families, especially the newly-reunited Crezskis and Monohans, embraced one another. Brett finally tore away from his mother and pack, moving hesitantly towards Charlie. “I…,” he stammered, trying to find some words—some way—to apologize.

No one knew quite what to say or do, but it was Charlie, free of indecision and inaction, who moved towards Brett. He wrapped the werewolf in a hug. “Thank you,” he said. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be that _thing_ ’s slave.”

“But if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been in the first place,” Brett protested.

A female voice interrupted their exchange. “Actually, that was my doing… not yours.”

They both turned to find Andie Bates standing next to Castiel. The angel had obviously gone to gather her from wherever she had wound up after five years on the run. “Peg’s meds would have kept my succubus side in check for only a little while longer. What happened would have happened regardless. You only accelerated the timetable,” she explained.

She ran over to Charlie, who stepped away from Brett to kiss her. Nick was about to protest, but his mouth was still struggling to work properly after Leigh’s spell. “Chief, it’s okay,” she assured him. She nodded to the Seraph. “He gave me the ability to control it. I’ll never hurt Charlie again.”

Charlie kissed her again, and the Monohans descended upon the pair. Brett smiled, walking over to his mother and his pack. Lukas eyed him curiously. “So what does this mean for us, Mr. Alpha?” Without a word, the True Alpha replied by kissing him.

 

As the brothers and Derek loaded up the Impala, the townsfolk gathered to say goodbye to them. Castiel had, predictably, taken his leave with only a modicum of words to the Winchesters. Nick and Brett loaded the final things into the trunk while Charlie and Andie were all but joined at the hip next to them. “How do we thank you?” Nick asked.

“You just did,” Sam smiled, climbing into the backseat while Dean slid behind the wheel. Derek took the passenger seat, reaching over to give Dean’s hand a quiet squeeze while Jackson remained outside the vehicle.

Jackson smiled as his lookalike approached. “So what will you do now?” he asked.

“Try to figure out how to live my life again without hiding… thanks to you,” Brett answered. “Try to be a good Alpha to my pack.”

Peg and her daughter walked over to join them. “Mia and I are going to try to help him with that,” the elder woman told Jackson. “I spoke to your brother again. I will teach her what I know, and she can use that knowledge and her own skills to act as Emissary to this pack as Stiles is to his.”

Jackson nodded his approval. “Your Emissary is better-looking than ours,” he chuckled. “And if there’s a God, _way_ more coordinated.”

“I don’t know, I think he’s pretty cute,” Mia grinned. Jackson rolled his eyes teasingly.

“Be safe,” Brett said, hugging his “twin”.

As Jackson started to climb into the car, Peg placed a hand upon his arm. “I’ve been doing some digging about the uncanny resemblance between the two of you. I’m pretty sure that there’s more to it than the superficial.”

“What are you saying?” Jackson asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Peg shook her head. “I have my suspicions, but I think you should talk to someone who knows more about it than I do. There’s a witch, far more powerful than me, who I think will be able to offer you some insights. She’s my niece. Tell her I sent you.”

“How many Mueller witches are there?” the werewolf half-joked.

Peg shook her head again as she handed him an address. “Not Mueller. She still has my maiden name. Her name is Bonnie… Bonnie Bennett.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next stories in the series will be short vignette interludes: one focusing on Dean and Derek and their relationship, and the other will be a side trip by Jackson and Sam back to Beacon Hills for some brotherly bonding time (Sam and Jackson, and Jackson and Stiles).


End file.
